Derrick's Diary: Sadie Hawkins Edition
by Sarcastic Twists
Summary: Derrick-centric-Oneshot. /The Sadie Hawkins Dance,in my khaki pants,There's nothing better/ It's the Sadie Hawkins at Westchester Preparatory. And Derrick's "book that contains random feelings" is getting filled up pretty quickly. Minor Derrick/Layne


Derrick's Diary: Sadie Hawkins Edition

**Disclaimer: And the prize to most idiotic person who thinks I own the Clique by Lisi Harrison goes to… **

_All the girls in the bathroom talking  
Who they gonna take to the Sadie Hawkins  
My ears are burning but I kept on walking  
Smile on my face and an air guitar rocking  
_-Sadie Hawkins Dance by Relient K

**November 12, 2008**

"Ehmagawd! The Sadie Hawkins Dance is coming!" squealed the Pretty Committee.

Ugh. You have no idea what an irritating sound that is. I think the sound barrier had to cover its ears in pain.

Well, let me introduce myself, mysterious reader. I'm Derrick Harrington, social misfit of Briarwood-Octavian Country Day, and shorts-wearer extraordinaire. I have shaggy blond hair, brown eyes, and naturally purple knees. I enjoy long walks on the beach and playing Call of Duty until the dead of night (in case any ladies out there are interested!).

Anyway, back to the Pretty Committee, the demons of the school life. They're the most popular girls in school and make everyone who knows them cower in fear for their lives. Especially Massie. Now that chick is _freaky_!

Let's clear some things up before we start on this expedition about my current life, shall we?

THIS IS NOT A DIARY! IT IS A BOOK THAT HAPPENS TO CONTAIN SOME RANDOM FEELINGS! AND I SHALL ALSO BE PRETENDING AS THOUGH THIS IS _NOT _A BOOK THAT HAPPENS TO CONTAIN SOME RANDOM FEELINGS! Okay, now that you have read 15% slower than normal with the all-caps writing, maybe the message will sink in. I need to make sure you all understand this. Who knows if my best friends, Cam Fisher and Josh Hotz, find this? Or worse, those lame guys who think they rule the school: Kemp Hurley, Chris Plovert, Dune Baxter, and Dempsey Solomon.

Now _that _would be the end of whatever miniscule social life I have. Not that I really care about it anyway. It's just that the "Soccer Boys" (*snort*) are sort-of (there I go being nice!) idiots and I'd prefer not to get dumped into a trashcan after class, kay? It's simply self-preservation.

At least that's what I would tell everyone.

Anyway, as you probably heard (or read, books-that-magically-have-feelings are quite confusing) the Sadie Hawkins Dance is coming up. Ugh, what a moronic excuse for a dance. It's not even celebrating anything! It was created by Al Capp as a hillbilly comic strip! I think the girls just convinced the Board of Ed that it's the perfect excuse to wear those "gorgeous cocktail dresses" and "sublime red sling backs".

…

I _really _have to stop going with my mom to stores. It's getting to me.

Besides the fact that it's not a real holiday and that it's incredibly stupid, the way the girls react to this is _so annoying. _If I have to hear one more squeal about how excited they are over asking "the dreamiest boy in class" to the dance, I may throw up.

Or maybe I'll just slap them. That's definitely more enjoyable.

Until the dreaded day has passed, I'll just paste a smile on my face and ignore them. I should think about what new chords I should think up for the new song my band created.

Yup, Cam, Josh, and I have a band; it's okay to feel jealousy at our awesomeness. While you do that, I'll just laugh at Massie Block's expression when I begin playing my air-guitar. Now that's a funny sight.

--

**November 13, 2008**

Crap. Crap, crap, CRAP! I knew playing _Beatles: Rock Band _until 4 am would come and haunt me. I never had a chance to prepare my presentation for class since I was so tired (and subsequently overslept, missed breakfast, and was late to first period and got a detention).

"Mr. Harrington," my English teacher, Ms. Clark, prompted to my perch in the back row. I stood up shakily with Josh and Cam giving me a thumbs up (Oh sure, they were able to give me good luck. **They **had made their presentations!) and I walked toward the front of the class. I tried not to look anyone in the eyes (because I know I'd start screaming that I didn't rehearse my presentation) and eventually reached the front and turned to face my doom.

"Derrick, please begin your presentation on…" Ms. Clark checks her clipboard. "Propriety." She sits down on an empty desk in the front. Well, no one's going to sit in the front when it's Count Scary-Looking Clark on the prowl.

Was _that _what my presentation was supposed to be about? Damn, I _really _need to start paying better attention when Ms. Clark is passing out assignments. I was sure it was something about crocodiles and how they betrayed the Crocodile Hunter.

"Um, okay, well, propriety means what is proper and what's socially acceptable. Right?" I looked briefly toward the aging teacher for confirmation and she only raised an eyebrow at me. "Well…"

Oh crap. This is it. I don't know what to say; the jig is up! There goes my chance at a life during summer and I should start welcoming summer school! I don't even know what to possi-

Hold on a minute. I think I can wing it.

"Yes, Mr. Harrington?" Ms. Clark asked impatiently. I heard a small giggle in the middle aisles, where the Crappy Committee and their dogs reside. I looked up sharply and saw that it was Massie Block. Oh, I'll show her…

"Well, there's a lot of stuff you can't say to people because it's not socially acceptable. Can I have any volunteers to demonstrate how this works?" I asked, a smirk slowly stretching on my lips. "How about you, Massie?"

"Don't refer to me by my first name, loser. It's Massie _Block _to you," she said snidely, standing up and walking to the front regardless. Ms. Clark, an absurdly laid back teacher, lets us get away with saying this kind of stuff.

"Whatever, Block, just shut the hell up so I can demonstrate how propriety works, alright?" I replied, barely restraining my anger. She rolled her eyes, and stood straight, quickly blowing a kiss to her boyfriend, Kemp Hurley. My smirk bloomed again. This is gonna be good.

"To start with, there are specific things you don't tell a girl, or person for that matter." I began to circle Massie, like a predator sizing up its prey. "For instance, you're never supposed to tell a girl that she's a stuck-up bitch. You're supposed to keep quiet and not even make a reference to this appalling fact." Several "Oooofs" went out across the room, making Massie blush with anger.

I plowed forward. "You're _also _not supposed to tell her that her boyfriend's a douche who seriously needs to get a life or _actually _laid. People aren't convinced the frigid ice queen has been putting out." A couple of gasps went out, but was masked by the raucous laughter by most of the peers. I knew then that I should have stopped, but I just couldn't. _Finally, _people like Massie Block were getting their just desserts.

"And of course, you should never mention to a girl how one strand in her seemingly perfect hair is just the perfect shade of _grey._" From my towering frame over Massie, I plucked the single grey stress hair she had on her head. The class shrieked in laughter as they saw their self-proclaimed queen bee look humiliated and turning a delightful shade of purple. Massie turned to run back.

"Oh, and Massie, dear?" I called. She turned harshly, glaring bullets at me. "I do hope you remember that if you pull one grey hair out, three more appear. Oops, that's something else you _aren't supposed to say._" I smirked triumphantly as she scurried away and sat back in her seat, Kemp Hurley immediately wrapping his arms around her and glaring.

I would have felt bad for her if she wasn't glaring at me too and hissing comfort insults (HOW DOES THAT EVEN _WORK?_) at her minions. Now _they _have the worst job in history.

I walked back to my seat proudly, even hearing Ms. Clark let out a few giggles, and had various students give me a high five. I sat down a grinned happily, feeling accomplished and pretty damn sure that I had gotten an A.

"That was awesome, dude," Josh whispered as the next presentation, the surprisingly cute Layne Abeley with 10 ways to annoy telemarketers.

"But you do know you're gonna get your ass kicked tomorrow, right?" Cam whispered from my other side.

…shit.

--

**November 14, 2008**

Today was all about hiding out.

After the awesome, amazing, effervescent feeling left me that day, I knew I was in for it. Insulting the Queen Bee of Westchester Preparatory while she's nearly body guarded by her minion's boyfriends? Not a particularly good idea. Every time they came near, I had to sprint to the nearest trash can and hide in there.

DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW SMELLY AND DISGUSTING THOSE THINGS ARE?! IT'S LIKE _DROWNING_ IN NOXIOUS GASES!

I was not amused to do this.

But, in the name of my face, I hid in trash cans all day. Cam and Josh flanked me pretty effectively while I was hidden, but it's not like they could take on those meat sacks if the time came. We're musicians; we love, not fight. A.K.A, _we were not meant for this chizz. _

Finally, lunch came around. The dreaded hour where a readily available trash can (a place where there _should _be more trashcans) is not near. I was screwed. To try and stop Massie's boy-puppets from finding me, I changed seating to somewhere much farther than where I normally sit. Josh and Cam came with me.

"Hey, Derrick, have you even _thought_ about who you're taking to the dance?" Cam asked, munching at a slightly bruised red apple. He, luckily, had already secured Allie Rose Singer, the impossibly tall girl in our Math class. Or, better yet, she had secured _him_.

I shook my head. "Guys, why would I be thinking of _that_? I'm a little too focused on the fact that we'll be performing at the dance, like BOTH OF YOU should be." I took an enormous bite of my cheeseburger, trying to stop talking. It's not just the whole dance performance, because clearly since Cam is with Allie Rose and Josh is with Cookie Elson and they're managing it, but it's just that I don't find anyone in this stupid school who isn't trying to be someone from the Pretty Committee.

I want a girl with an actual personality, not a bad carbon copy of Massie Block.

"Derrick, you're being _way _too focused on this performance. We're BAMFs; it's guaranteed that we'll be fine. I don't know why you're freaking out about this so much," Josh answered, taking a large gulp from his apple juice. Stupid Josh and his moments of sensibility…

"Whatever, man. I don't have a date and I'm not going to get one. It's a little too late for girls to be asking guys now. The dance is tomorrow night, after all." I ducked my head down and started picking and ripping apart my napkin until it was confetti. I heard a cough from above me and I tilted my head upwards, wondering who was giving me such a contemptuous sound.

Of-freaking-course.

Massie, Kemp, and the rest of their clique were standing behind us, glaring fiercely at us. I heard a muttered curse from Josh and a bookbag rustling from Cam's direction. I gulped deeply, scared out of my mind.

"This is where _we _sit," declared Alicia Rivera, the snooty second-in-command of the Pretty Committee. "So, I suggest that you get out **now**."

Josh scoffed. "Really, Rivera? Are you and your shopping bag going to make us?" NO! WHAT ARE YOU _DOING _JOSH?! DO YOU WANT TO GET KILLED?! THOSE BABOONS WILL PUMMEL US AND SAY TYPICAL LINES LIKE STEPPING IN AND SAYING "NO, WE ARE!"!

Dempsey, Kemp, Chris, and Dune huddled together in front of us and I resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. "No, we are!"

…You see! They make it much too easy to mock them!

And Josh just _had _to keep going, even with Cam and I motioning to him to shut up. "Pffft, yeah, okay," he said sarcastically. "I'm sure you guys can take us." Why oh why had Cookie Elson drooled over him so much? His ego is three times as big as before!

Dune, with his spacey-surfer gaze and weirdly the toughest of them all, picked me up (as I was closest) and growled, "We can and will. Do you sissies want a beating?" He had brought me close to his face and I could feel his breath on my face. Would it be rude to plug my nose? Salt spray and onion rings aren't a very exotic and delicious smell.

"No, no," I said, pulling away and taking his arms off me roughly, and before Josh could answer again. "That's something we won't be needing."

I turned briefly to look at Cam and Josh (where the former had the latter in a headlock to make sure he doesn't say anything and a hand on his bicep so he could easily drag Josh away) and turned forwards again to look at the angry and pissed off faces of the Pretty Committee and the Soccer Boys.

And then we ran.

We ran in all different directions, just in case the meat sacks decided to chase after us. I doubted it though, since I didn't hear any frantic footsteps behind me. I slowed down into a stop as I walked by a different section of school. It was lined with lockers, but I'd never been to this section, which is weird, since I've been here for three years. As I was looking around, I bumped into someone, causing _both _of us to fall.

I'm just so smooth, right?

I stand up quickly, trying to keep some shred of dignity, and give the mysterious girl my hand. I look down and study her, seeing familiar features. Her dyed-black curly hair with blue streaks, a diminutive stature, and neon and black clothing stood out to me. A bell is on the verge of ringing in my head on whom this is until I see her eyes. Her narrowed, jade green eyes look up at me before she recognizes me and they open playfully. The bell in my head rings sharply and loudly as it registers that this is the offbeat, hilariously sarcastic, Layne Abeley.

I pick her up and keep her hand in mine, a slow, involuntary grin coming on my face. I have no idea why I'm doing this, but it's a little like gravity. I'm drawn to smile at her and pay attention to her now, even if I never really have before.

"Hey, Derrick. Fancy seeing you in this part of school and," she paused, looking at our still intertwined hands, yet not pulling away, "holding my hand quite forcefully."

"Oh, sorry," I finally pulled away, feeling the gaping loss of her warm hand. I look around again, still not knowing where I am. "What _is _this part of school?"

"It's the theater wing. This is where all the drama kids come around for practice for the school plays. You know, the ones that everyone blows off?" she replied crisply.

"Right, right. You know, I mean to go to those…" I said, suddenly awkward.

Layne laughed happily. "Don't worry. It's not like I don't blow off _your _band's concerts in the park."

"See! It's not just me. We're just both incredibly lame people." I grinned at her, pacified that I hadn't actually bothered her.

"No, no," Layne disagreed, "I'm quite sure I'm a _tad _less lame that you, big boy." She poked me in the chest, and I felt warmed that her nails were not talon-sharp or filed in the slightest. They were normal, which was _ab_normal in this school.

"No way, little girl, _I _am so much more awesome than _you_." I like this conversation even if it's virtually about nothing. She's different, that much is certain. _Why_ hadn't I noticed her before?

Oh yeah, because I was too obsessed with becoming the next Bob Dylan.

"I hate to disagree with you, Kurt Cobain, but I am definitely the cooler one in this oddly deserted hallway."

Wait a second… "You know who Kurt Cobain is?" I questioned, shocked out of my mind that a girl in this decade knew who he was in the midst of Justin Beiber and the Jonas Brothers.

She raised an eyebrow. "Um, duh? He's _Nirvana's _lead singer. Who didn't know that? Just because I'm a theater geek doesn't mean I can't appreciate, and even obsess, over 80s and 90s music."

I think I'm in love. I told her so, and she simply laughed again. Man, what I would give to make her laugh more often, instead of being all protest-y and pissed off at the school.

I was about to respond to her laugh, when she pulled out her ringing cell phone. _Help! _by the Beatles was playing and I knew that I would be sharing iPods with her more often. "What's up, Mom?" she said, turning away and thankfully not putting up a finger to excuse herself. I've always hated that. I heard her agree to some things her mother said and then snapped her cell phone shut. "I have to go," Layne said to me.

"Aww, seriously?" No! Don't go yet! I've barely spoken to you!

"Yeah… But, I'll see you around, okay?" Layne began to walk away, down the hallway that seemed a lot shorter than before. She suddenly stopped, seeming to debate with herself over something. She quickly turned back around, but stayed rooted in the same distance. "Hey, you're pretty smooth and fun to talk to. I'm taking you to Sadie Hawkins." Layne turned back around and started for the door once more.

"Oh, is that a request or an order?" I called out, grinning wildly.

Without turning around or stopping, she replied, "It's definitely an order, Harrington. See you tomorrow night!" I could hear the smile in her voice as she finally reached the side door and left the building. I continued to beam brightly, until I got a text from Cam asking me where the hell I was.

But all I was thinking about was which pair of shorts would make Layne laugh the most.

_Fin _

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**And that's it! My first fanfic of 2010 and my second year of being a fanfiction writer. I'm absurdly happy :) Review please!**


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